All Bets Are Off
by P-Fanfiction
Summary: A wealthy program named Jiro losses his memory in a light-cycle-bet.  Jiro can no longer remember his past, and he doesn't know why he's being chased by the sentry. EXTENDED UNIVERSE: NO MOVIE CHARACTERS
1. The Race

**All Bets Are Off**

_Chapter 1: The Race_

* * *

**a=="false"?**

"_The Grid; a digital frontier. I tried to picture clusters of information as they moved through the computer. What did they look like? Chips? Motorcycles? Were the circuits like freeways? I kept dreaming of a world I thought I'd never see. And then one day, I got in." _-The Creator, Kevin Flynn

**"debugTask":"ic_26"**

* * *

**T**he battle arena was more alive than ever. Programs had flocked across the grid to witness the greatest race of the current megacycle. The stands surrounding the arena were glowing with neon-blue crowds. There was an energy that charged the arena, and it wasn't electricity. It was the energy of the crowd. It was the thirst for pixels that filled the air. No one would be disappointed tonight.

Jiro6-2-12, known as Jiro by his most, sat and watched the stands from his private box. A waitress walked around his chair with a glowing plate.

"Would you like a drink sir?" she asked. Her voice had been programmed with just the right mixture of reproachfulness and respect.

"Not now," Jiro said with a wave of his hand. "They're too many things requiring my attention." The waitress turned and left without making a sound.

From his seat, Jiro could spot his prized racer, Tanner, down on the field. Tanner was stretching and priming his circuits for the night's race. _Tanner better be getting ready,_ thought Jiro, anxiously. Jiro was Tanner's benefactor, or at least that was what Jiro called himself. In reality, Jiro used Tanner to win memory-bets, but reality can be a scarce commodity on the Grid.

Tanner's life was at stake each race, but Jiro was running the same risks. If Tanner was to fail, Jiro would lose practically all the memory he had. He would be reduced to a mere two gigabytes. Most of his processing functions would simply shut down. You had to play big at the arena. Jiro had played particularly big tonight. He had made the largest bet of his life.

A clock on suspended above the field was silently ticking down. Its orange digits cast shadows in the stand. Jiro panned his eyes over the crowd to ease him mind. Everything he saw was stored in a temporary memory file. He could view it all later. That was if he won the bet.

Jiro could see fans pushed into the small of the arena seats; very few programs had private boxes like him. Among the crowd, small bits of data were being swapped through glowing hands. The last minute bidding period was still going.

Jiro tried to look away from it all. Perhaps he should have taken a drink. It would have calmed his circuits. Above the field, a brilliant flare exploded in the night sky. One minute until the race. On the field, the racers had all stopped stretching. Silence began to spread over the crowds. Suddenly, CLU's voice boomed over the loudspeakers:

"I am glad you have all come here tonight. None of you will leave disappointed," the voice filled all of the stands.

"Before we begin the games tonight, I have one thing to say," he paused, then continued dramatically. "May the best program win!"

His last words echoed across the arena, and perhaps the entire Grid as well. CLU raised his hand, and ten-thousand programs held their breath. The hand remained suspended in air for a moment, and then it dropped down.

"Go!"

Down on the field, the racers began to sprint towards the center. Tanner could feel his suit stretch as he lunged into the air with his baton. From under him, a light bike materialized. At first it was only a frame, and then the pedals and grips formed. With a crash of sparks, the bikes landed on the grid. The game had begun.

As the racers began to pick up speed, a bright orb flashed in the middle of the field. Inside of it was an extra baton. The first racer to reach the orb could collect the baton. Tanner gunned his engine; Jiro held his breath.

If Jiro had owned a heart, it would've been racing. Instead, he could feel his disk radiating heat into his back. Tanner crossed the middle line, grabbing the baton. At that moment, derezzing fields activated behind all of the racers. Jrio watched as Tanner's blue trail cut an orange racer off. The orange biker collided head on with the wall of data and instantly exploded into a cluster of pixels. The crowd stood up in the seats, screaming and yelling. A racer had never been taken out so early in the game!

Tanner couldn't hear the roar of the crowds. Instead, he concentrated on the field ahead of him; looking for other racers trying to cut him off. With his left hand, Tanner activated the second baton into a sword. This time he _could_ hear the excitement of the crowds.

Tanner spun his bike towards the center of the field. From behind him, he heard a light cycle approaching. Tanner took a quick look over his shoulder. He was being followed by a green bike. Tanner tried weaving back and forth to shake the other biker. His trail wobbled behind him. The green cyclist merely sped up until he and Tanner were running side by side. In a violent lash, Tanner stuck out with his sword. He managed to nick the other bike, throwing a shower of sparks into the night air. The crowd roared. They were hungry for more pixels.

Again, Tanner struck with the light-sword and there were even more sparks. A few flashed into Tanner's eyes. Tanner reached out to strike the other bike for a third time. This time, the bike was gone! At that exact moment, the green biker crashed down on Tanner's back. Tanner tried to throw his assailant off, but he couldn't steer at the same time! Tanner felt a strong boot on his back, and the next thing he knew, he was falling through the air.

Jiro watched from above as Tanner was smeared into a collection of pixels below. How could that have happened? Tanner was the best racer on the Grid! Jiro whirled around, trying to get out of the room. He felt a pang from his disk.

* * *

**iconindent"/div/div/div/div/divdivid="alignLeftButton"class="true,'eacl':true,'easr':true,'ebc':false,'ebk':true,'ecl' false 'ec':true,'ecm':true,'ecb':true 'ecqs' false,'ecer':true,'ec**

* * *

**T**he crowds were screaming. Programs spilt their drinks and dropped neon bags of peanuts as they stood up in astonishment. Jiro, confused, scanned the room around him. Where was he? What had just happened? The arena was going insane! A scoreboard was showing reruns of a blue racer being kicked off his bike. Who was the racer?

Calm hands gently gripped Jiro from behind. He tried to spin around, but the hands grabbed him tighter.

"Wait! Stop, let go!" he yelled as he wheeled around. He was being dragged out of the room by two security guards.

"What are you doing? Where am I?" Jiro was screaming now. The visors of the guards gave him no emotion. As they dragged Jiro out of the room, his boots desperately slipped on the crystal floor.

Outside the private box, Jiro was pulled through the arena's halls by the guards. Vendor programs looked up from their glowing hot dogs and stared as he yelled out profanities. From the stands, a surge of people was filling the hall. This would be Jiro's only chance to escape. Across a throng of people, he spotted a lift open. Squeezing out of the guards' grips, Jiro dashed into the crowd. Behind him, Jiro could hear the guards yelling above the noise. He felt hands grab at him from the crowd, but he kept moving. Right before the lift doors closed, he slipped in. The lift was empty.

Jiro sank to the floor, panting for breath. He had no clue what those guards had wanted. _There must have been some mistake!_, he thought. Whatever the case was, it would be best for him to get someplace safe. The guards might have been trying to derezz him, or worse, make him play in the games.

From his gut, Jiro felt the lift slowing down. The doors opened. He stood up and strode out into the open. The lift had deposited him at one of the entrances to the arena. Across the pavilion, Jiro spotted the guards racing down a flight of stairs. Without wasting a second, he sprinted towards the exit. The program collecting tickets didn't stop him. Jiro felt smooth pavement beneath his feet and the dark sky above his head. He was free, for now at least.


	2. The File

**All Bets are Off**

_Chapter Two: The File_

* * *

**J**iro's boots were silent as they pounded through the black streets. The only sounds coming from the program were his rasping breaths. Jiro staggered up the curb and leaned against a building. He let his lungs loose, and steadied himself as the night air cleared his thoughts. Jiro still had no clue where he was, but the guards were gone.

At the end of the ally, a light-car slowly rolled by, casting shadows between the buildings. Jiro held still, hoping his glowing suit wouldn't give him away. The car drove by and continued its search for him. Jiro, exhausted, sat down. As he slid against the side of the building, a crumpled piece of paper fell out of his pocket. It was a data slip. Jiro eagerly picked it up, turning it over in his hands. On the back was written:

4832 Processing Dr.

That was all the slip of paper said. Jiro checked the other side once more, just in case… nothing. Folding the scrap back into his pocket, Jiro stood up again and walked out of the ally. He could see the light-car down the street, fading away in the distance. _Where was he?_ Jiro looked around for a street sign, and instantly one appeared above the road, "Java Ave," in blue text. He had accidentally requested a location! At the end of the street, Jiro could hear the sound of burning rubber and the light-car pulled a u-turn. They were coming back for him! They knew where he was!

Jiro began to sprint down the street in the opposite direction. He could hear the car gunning its engine behind him. He would have to find a building soon or they would run him over.

There was a buzzing sound as a disk came flying past Jiro's head. The disk wedged itself into the middle of the road with a sizzle. Jiro looked back just in time to see the passenger of the car picking up another disk. Jiro ducked as another disk nearly missed.

Up ahead there was an intersection. A biker was waiting at a red light. Without offering an excuse, Jiro pushed the biker onto the road and kicked off with his foot. The bike charged into the intersection, and as Jiro cleared the other side he heard two cars slam into each other. A second later, there was another explosion from behind. The squad car that had been chasing him was totaled.

* * *

**iconindent"/div/div/div/div/divdivid="alignLeftButton"class="true,'eacl':true,'easr':true,'ebc':false,'ebk':true,'ecl' false 'ec':true,'ecm':true,'ecb':true 'ecqs' false,'ecer':true,'ec**

* * *

**I**t was an hour before Jiro finally got off the bike. He was thoroughly lost now, and couldn't remember anything about the Grid that would help him escape. He would have to ask someone.

Parking the bike up to the curb, Jiro steeped off onto the sidewalk. The store in front of him was the exact same as all the other buildings; it had solid dark walls outlined with blue stripes. If it weren't for the glowing lines, the building might not have existed at all. There were no windows, signs, or lights. The only embellishment was a small plaque above the door. It read:

4832 Processing Dr.

A grin spread across Jiro's face. Of all the buildings he might have stopped at, he sure had been lucky. In fact, the odds of him stopping at this building were astronomically small. Jiro had no clue what was behind the door, or who had left him the data-scrap. For all he was aware of, there could be some sort of murderer that lived here.

Jiro cautiously walked up to the door. The frame flashed, indicating that a bell had been rung inside. Jiro shuffled his feet, trying to look inconspicuous. Minutes passed, and Jiro was thinking about returning to his bike when the door was pulled open a slit. There was no light coming from inside, and Jiro couldn't make out the shady face peering up at him.

"Excuse me," started Jiro, unsure of whom he was talking to.

"I found a sheet of paper with your address, and it's really not very important, it's just," Jiro paused for a moment, trying to pull the night's events together in his head. He was having trouble processing. _Why?_

"I'm being chased, and your address is the only place I knew where to go," he finished. The figure at the door didn't make any gesture of letting Jiro in.

He tried again, "Please, if you'll just let me in I can explain. I think there's something wrong with my…"

Jiro was cut off by the shadowy figure,

"Just come in," was all the figure said. He pulled open the door, wide enough so that Jiro could fit through. As the door closed behind the two, the lights inside the building came back on. Jiro's eyes were clouded, and it took a moment for him to adjust. That's when he got a look at the man, or rather; the man got a look at him.

"Oh, my, god," said the man in a strange voice.

"You warned me this might happen, but I didn't think it would be this bad." The man's face seemed to deflate. Tiredness was the only emotion that Jiro could make out. He was looking into a face that had just been struck hard.

"Follow me," the man said resolutely. They both entered into a lift. There was a humming noise as the lift carried them down. How far they were going; Jiro had no idea. The lift finally stopped, and the man took a moment to look at Jiro before he got out.

"You're probably wondering who I am and what you're doing here? Right?" the man asked. Jiro simply nodded.

"Well, I'm not sure where to start," began the man. "We don't have much time, so I can't explain everything to you." The man was searching for his thoughts,

"We both used to be business partners. Of sorts," the man added.

"We made a lot of money together, you and me. I guess that's over now. Anyways, you should know that you've gone and lost most of your memory. I warned you to stay away from the arena, but I guess you didn't listen." The man paused again and erupted into a fit of coughing, then continued,

"You won't remember any of your past, and you planned for that. The slip of paper that led you was given to you by yourself. You always told me, 'If I ever blank, I want you to save a download for me.' I've saved that download all these years. Now I can give you the file, but that's about it. As to what's on the file, I have no clue. I guess only you knew that. Let me see your disk."

The old man's fingers gently pried Jiro's disk off of his back. Jiro watched as the man inserted in the disk into a machine which looked to be a burner. It was Jiro's turn to speak up,

"Exuse me, but you haven't told me your name yet." Jiro said.

The old man smiled, almost laughed.

"Sorry, but I can't tell you that. You're on your own now, Jiro." As the man said this, the disk finished burning and he handed it back.

"The cops should be showing up soon," he said, "you have to leave now." The man looked as though what he said was hurting him.

"I wish you the best of luck buddy."

With that, the man guided Jiro back to the lift. Jiro watched as the doors closed, and the sad man who had once been his friend disappeared.


	3. The Escape

**All Bets are Off**

_Chapter Three: The Escape_

* * *

**J**iro closed the door of "4832 Processing Dr." behind him. He was back on the streets, and perhaps worse off than when he had escaped the arena. Not only was Jiro a run away, but now he was a thief as well as a shady businessman. At least Jiro had a better idea of who he was. Somehow he had lost his memory, and now all he had was a file stored onto his disk. He still didn't know what the file was for, our how it might help him.

Jiro made sure there were no cars in sight, and then crossed the street. He thought about taking off on the light-bike, but that would attract too much attention. Attention was the last thing Jiro needed. News of his arrest would be spreading and soon police and civilians alike would be searching for him. He had to get out of the city.

A growl came from Jiro's stomach. Suddenly, Jiro realized how hungry he was. There was no telling when the last time he had eaten; he couldn't remember. At the end of the street, Jiro could make out a restaurant. As he got closer, Jiro could hear electro-music blaring from the building. Even better, he could smell the aromas of a hard working grill; oil, salt, and fried batter. His stomach growled even louder. If Jiro wanted to escape, he might as well do it on a full stomach.

Pushing through the restaurant doors, Jiro entered the building. All of the music and smells doubled as he walked in. The lights were set low, and amongst the blue haze Jiro could make out people sitting at bars and chatting around tables. The room had few windows, and it gave Jiro a strange feeling. At least no one would be able to see him clearly.

Jiro stood against a wall, waiting to be seated. He felt a blast of night air as the door to the restaurant was opened again. Inside walked two sentries. Their black visors reflected the colored lights from the bar. Jiro froze, his pale circuits outlining him in the dark. One of the sentries looked over at him.

"Hey, you!" the sentry yelled, grabbing Jiro by his suit.

The second sentry walked around behind Jiro to grab his disk. As the sentry rose his hands to up to the disk, Jiro spun around; grabbing the sentry's arm and pulling it into a hold behind his head. Jiro could feel the sentry struggling, and he applied pressure on the arm. There was a loud pop as the arm dislocated itself. Jiro was just as surprised as the first sentry, who he grabbed and flung against the door.

Jiro looked up from the brawl, and noticed the entire restaurant had stopped eating and was staring at him. From somewhere in the room, Jiro heard a glass drop and shatter on the floor. The two sentries on the floor were stirring. Jiro pushed through the back door and stumbled onto the street. He was suddenly blinded as two sentry light-cycles pulled up, their headlights pointed at him. Jiro felt his muscles going in to action again. His right arm pulled the disk off his back, and he held it up. The disk glowed in the night. One of the sentries on the bike yelled,

"Look out, he's got a disk!"

Jiro flung the disk at the biker, who was cut in half by the spinning blade. The disk turned around in a loop and came back through the second biker. Jiro easily caught it in his hand. The disk was burning hot, but Jiro didn't even notice. Instead, he watched the last pixels of the sentries as they crumbed onto the street. _How did I do that?_ Jiro wondered in awe. Then he remembered the file stored on his disk.

At that moment, the two sentries from the restaurant stumbled back out onto the street. Before they could pick up their disks, Jiro was speeding away on one of the bikes.

_What had he done?_ Jiro hadn't meant to attack the sentries. His arms had just swung into motion. He steered the bike around a corner, gunning the engine. There was no way he could stay in the city now; he had to escape. Jiro pulled onto a highway ramp, speeding up to match the traffic. None of the vehicles around him noticed they were driving next to an outlaw, next to a murderer.

Ahead, the highway split in two directions. Jiro had reached the edge of the city. Instead of turning with the traffic, Jiro drove straight ahead. He pulled his bike up and managed to jump over the guard rail. With a thud, the bike crashed onto the rough ground. Its tires began to churn up mud for the first time. Jiro slowed down, dissolving into the night. It would be a long time before he could return to the city; if ever.

* * *

**a=="false"?**

Sam Flynn: What am I supposed to do?  
Siren Jem: Survive.

**"debugTask":"ic_26"**


End file.
